


No Longer Wandering this Wonderland Alone

by stevie_RST



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cowboy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Alternate Universe With Magic, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Cowboy AU, Friendship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Still a Witcher, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Secrets, Love Confessions, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Mutual Pining, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Partially Song Inspired, Pining, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Western AU, based on art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevie_RST/pseuds/stevie_RST
Summary: Geralt has been wandering the plains alone, riding the Path, as is the life of a witcher. Years spent  killing monsters and  protecting ungrateful settlers from monsters as they travel further and further west searching for their manifest destiny.In one ramshackle town just like the rest, he meets a young man named Jaskier who sticks up for him despite him being a witcher. They end up making a speedy getaway out of town, thus starting their decades long journey of wandering the Continent together.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	No Longer Wandering this Wonderland Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the Midwinter Reverse Bang mods for creating this bang! And thank you to Anna/[Puakaba](https://puakaba.tumblr.com) for being such a great person to work with on this!! You kept making all of my ideas for the fic better and it felt very collaborative in the best way! I am so glad I got to write this fic based your art!! 
> 
> I'll add a link to her art once it's posted!! 
> 
> Also listen to the song [Misty by Ray Stevens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ko56rc30qdk)!! It was the song that inspired the art and then also the fic! It's what the title is take from as well!

Geralt rode into a town. It was a bit ramshackle, like most towns he passed through. A main drag with the staples of every other town that popped up, a few farmhouses in the distance and most likely more even further. 

There were townsfolk wandering the street and in shops going about their everyday business. But of course as soon as they caught wind of him riding into town, most conversation stopped aside from some grumbling that they probably thought he couldn’t hear. 

Mothers pushed their children behind their skirts and men put their hands on their pistols. If only they knew he didn’t want trouble with them. He was willing to kill monsters plaguing their towns and yet he got looks of disdain in return. 

Witchers had always been a necessity. As long as there were monsters to be killed there would be witchers to kill them. In the frontier it was even more of a necessity as humans and other beings were settling in places that had once or were still the territory of monsters. Geralt often wished settlers would find elsewhere to put down roots, but he had been around long enough to witness the stubborn nature of humans in particular. 

He rode down the main dirt road until he came to what looked to be the saloon attached to the inn. He dismounted from Roach and tied her reins to a hitching post. He promised her some food and rest and with a few gentle pats to the side of her head he turned to enter the saloon, making sure his coin purse was secured to his belt. As well as his pistols and knife.

\--------------------

“Don’t want no trouble from a witcher,” the woman behind the counter said to Geralt, not unkindly, but warningly, as he approached.

“Just looking for a meal and feed for my horse. Maybe a room for the night.” Geralt placed a meager amount of coin on the countertop. 

“Not enough for all three.” 

Geralt reached into his coin purse and pulled out the last few coins, leaving the pouch empty. 

“Can get you a hot meal and two bags of feed.” 

Grunting his acceptance, Geralt went to push the money further towards the woman when another hand forcefully covered it.

Geralt slowly turned to the side to see another man, he was ordinary in appearance, the attitude of a thug. 

“The town of Posada thanks you for your generous donation.” 

The woman behind the counter looked at Geralt with an apologetic expression on her face, but made no move to oppose the thug of a man. 

Geralt could easily take the thug, but that was what they all expected from him. Unnecessary violence. As if humans weren’t often the worst monsters. As much as Geralt wanted to grab the man’s hand and twist his wrist seeing as he was taking the last of Geralt’s hard-earned coin, he refrained. It wasn’t worth the hassle. 

He could camp out again, he could hunt for something to eat or dig out whatever rations might be hiding in his saddle bag, but he needed to feed Roach. They rode hard today and covered a lot of distance with hardly a green pasture in sight, meaning the horse was hungry. 

In the moment that Geralt was lost in thought, the man scraped his coin off the counter and stalked back to his seat at a table on the other side of the saloon. 

Geralt turned to leave, seeing as he no longer had a reason to be there. 

“What a prick,” said a voice on his right. “He always comes in here thinking he owns the place, just because his cousin’s the sheriff.” 

Geralt turned toward the voice and was met with the face of a brown-haired young man. His blue eyes were bright, but he still had a sneer on his face as he looked in the direction of the thug now seated at his table. 

The young man then turned back to face Geralt as if he felt his stare. 

“Well, Sir Witcher, your luck has just turned around.” 

Geralt had no idea what the exuberant young man meant by that, Geralt did not see how he had gained any luck. 

The young man turned to the woman behind the counter, “Lettie, get this man that meal he asked for, I will see to his horse while we wait. Take it out of my pay,” 

“Alright, Jaskier,” the woman, Lettie, said to him with an almost fond smile. 

Geralt just looked at the young man—Jaskier—in shock. Rarely if ever did he receive charity from anymore. He would have been fine without it. He didn’t need help. But he could make sure Roach was fed now. 

He just hummed in response to Jaskier as he made his way towards the door of the saloon. Jaskier followed him, “Not one for words, are you? You really are a mysterious stranger blowing into town, huh? Just passing through?” 

Geralt grunted, “You ask a lot of questions.” 

Jaskier laughed, “He speaks. And yes, how else would I get answers without asking questions?” 

“Yet another question.” Geralt said a small smile trying to make its way onto his lips. Jaskier was just so young. And so...earnest. It was refreshing Geralt supposed, but he still didn’t like that he was apparently finding the man endearing. 

Jaskier led the way to a small storehouse and opened the door to retrieve the bags of feed. Geralt moved to take them, but Jaskier just winked at him. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Geralt led the way to one of the hitching posts where he had left Roach. He rubbed her neck, “I’ve got food for you, girl.” She huffed and butted her head against his chest. “No patience,” he chided jokingly. He momentarily forgot he had company and looked up to see Jaskier biting his lip to stifle a smile. 

After Roach was fed and watered, Jaskier led Geralt back to the saloon, talking the whole way, though Geralt mostly tuned it out, so he wasn’t sure what was actually said.

“Jaskier!” Lettie called from behind the bar, “Take this to the table over there.” She placed a tray with tankards of beer on the bar. She then placed a tankard of beer in front of where Geralt was seated. “Be right back with your meal,” she said before walking away again.

“Make it two,” he said. She winked at him as if knowing his intentions for the second meal. 

Geralt saw that the table she had indicated was the one where the thug from earlier was sitting. Geralt watched closely as he drank his beer. He wanted to make sure that the thug didn’t try to start anything. If he did, Geralt would have to step in, even if it was only to repay the kindness that Jaskier showed him earlier. 

Lettie came back with two bowls and another tankard of beer before moving on to serve other patrons. 

Jaskier returned a few moments later. He placed the empty tray on the counter before leaning nonchalantly against it. Geralt glanced at him out of the side of his eye. “Eat.” He said, sliding one of the bowls that Lettie had given him after he asked for two meals. “It’s your coin that paid for it, so you might as well.” 

Jaksier smirked at him and Geralt felt like there was more to the young man than met the eye. “Don’t mind if I do.” Jaskier said as he took a seat next to Geralt.

\--------------------

Once they finished eating, Geralt headed outside to retrieve his bags from Roach. He heard Jaskier walk out after him a few beats later. Geralt turned to look at him, noting the way he let out a relieved sigh once he exited the saloon. 

Geralt reached Roach and Jaskier scrambled over to him moments later.

Geralt suddenly heard shouting coming from the saloon, unsure what was going on, he looked towards Jaskier. 

Jaskier just gave him a cheeky grin as he held up a coin purse. He shook it at Geralt with a laugh. 

But his laughter didn’t last long as men led by the thug from earlier poured out of the saloon. He looked at Geralt sheepishly and Geralt let out a sigh. He had only known the young man for a few hours at most and he was already causing him trouble. 

Geralt mounted Roach, it looked like his time in this town was going to be cut short. Jaskier looked up at him and then at his surroundings, probably trying to decide where to run and hide. It seemed obvious that the thug had not only figured out that the money he stole had been stolen back, but who stole it. 

Before Jaskier could run, Geralt reached down a hand and grabbed his arm, “Come on.” 

“What?” Jaskier looked up at him with those big, blue eyes. 

“I said ‘come on,’ Geralt said impatiently before all but hauling Jaskier onto the saddle behind him. Geralt urged Roach into a gallop and they left Posada in the dust.

\--------------------

They stopped when they were a good distance away from the town. Geralt could admit to himself that he was tired, even with his enhanced stamina. The stop in Posada hadn’t been very restful considering his expected stay was significantly shortened. 

Jaskier started gathering kindling for a fire before Geralt even said anything, which surprised him. He hadn’t expected Jaskier to be versed in surviving in the wilderness or as someone willing to pull his weight without being asked. 

Jaskier dumped a pile of sticks on the ground near the shallow pit that Geralt dug for the fire. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said to Jaskier as he started laying the sticks. 

“Whatever for?” Jaskier asked with genuine confusion on his face. 

“We made a hasty exit. You might have family or friends, a life there.” 

“I’ll have you know that I have been itching for a chance to leave that backwater. I’ve been stuck there longer than I planned. Of course the girls at the brothel were nice, almost like sisters to me, sure I slept with some of them, but otherwise they were like family. And I got to play the piano in the saloon, but I have always thought I was destined for more than that.” 

“And following a witcher is a greater destiny?” 

“Of course! Life on the trail, hunting monsters, it sounds exhilarating to me.”

\--------------------

Geralt didn’t understand how Jaskier thought following him would be exhilarating. They had been on the trail for three days before they came across another town. And while Jaskier didn’t complain all the time, helped set up camp, and didn’t smell like fear, Geralt wasn’t used to having company on the path—aside from Roach that is. Geralt supposed he was still wary of his new travel companion despite the fact that he was the one to drag Jaskier out of that town in the first place. 

Geralt knew he didn’t have enough coin to cover the cost of rations for the both of them as well as feed for Roach. So he was relieved to find out that Jaskier was smart enough to keep his money on his person—in addition to the coin he stole back from the thug—and was willing to spend it on supplies and other sundries when they made it to the new town. Although the cost of everything really did set them both back, especially with Jaskier needing to buy a bedroll and other travel essentials. 

Geralt still didnt know why he was letting Jaskier tag along, but since it didn’t seem like he was going anywhere anytime soon Geralt figured he needed to stand a chance while accompanying a witcher in the wilderness. Which is why the very last of his coin after buying food went to buying a dagger that was a suitable size for Jaskier to wield, but still carry somewhere on his person. 

It also meant that Geralt needed to find a contract for a hunt soon. Hopefully there would be something on the notice board he was told was on the other side of town when he inquired at the general store.

\--------------------

Geralt went back to where he had left Roach and found Jaskier already there waiting, with his new satchel and bedroll. 

“Catch,” Geralt said before he tossed the sheathed dagger to Jaskier. 

Caught off guard, Jaskier quickly set his satchel aside and fumbled the dagger, but still managed to catch it. “Thanks, didn’t think you trusted me with sharp objects.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes, “Put it in your boot. Next time we make camp I’ll teach you how to use it.”

“Of course, thank you!” Jaskier smiled, “I’ll treasure it.” 

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted, “It’s just a dagger.” He then untied Roach and turned to lead the way towards the notice board at the other end of town. He ignored the fact that Jaskier was looking at him in wonder as he did as he was told and put the sheathed dagger in his boot. 

The notice board was fairly empty, but it seemed one of the families with a homestead fairly close by were dealing with a griffin that had nested nearby. It seemed a straight forward enough hunt, though it didn’t seem promising in terms of coin. But Geralt figured it was better than nothing until he came across a more lucrative hunt, so he plucked the piece of paper off of the board. 

Jaskier pointed to the piece of paper in Geralt’s hand, “Ooh, are we going on a hunt?” he asked with what Geralt could only describe as glee. Geralt could think of nothing worse than a practically defenseless, talkative human following him on a hunt. 

“I am, you aren’t. You’ll stay with Roach once we make camp.”

\--------------------

Once they left town and got closer to the river, they made camp, Jaskier making a fire, while Geralt tended to Roach, as had become their routine. After the essential duties of making camp were complete, Geralt beckoned Jaskier to a clear spot a few yards away from their fire and bedrolls. 

“Grab that dagger and I’ll show you how to use it.” 

Jaskier popped up like a spring from his seated position on the ground, pulling the dagger out of his boot and unsheathing it as he made his way over to Geralt. He was more enthusiastic than Geralt had been anticipating. Geralt figured he could have some fun with this. 

He quirked an eyebrow, “Come at me with it.” 

Geralt put Jaskier through his paces with the dagger. But...Geralt was further surprised by how adept Jaskier already was with it. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It made Geralt’s job of teaching him easier and meant that Geralt wouldn’t have to worry about protecting him as much. 

“You’re better with that than I expected.” 

“Yeah, well life hasn’t always been kind.” 

Geralt took in the hard look on Jaskier’s face and decided not to inquire further. It wasn’t his place and maybe in time Jaskier would share his past with him. Although Geralt wondered when he decided he would let the younger man travel with him long enough to find out his life story, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that now. 

Now he had a griffin to hunt.

\--------------------

They seemed to have developed a routine when going into towns. Geralt would make sure Roach was taken care of, whether it was just getting her some feed and water if it was a quick stop, or stabling her if they were planning on staying longer. Jaskier would go to the general store in search of supplies, occasionally the post office—though Geralt still hadn’t asked who he was sending letters to—and the inn or saloon to inquire about lodging if they were staying in town 

Geralt would make sure to check notice boards and ask stablehads if they knew of any contracts for a witcher. Jaskier would even ask about contracts on Geralt’s behalf and Geralt could only imagine the confused looks that townspeople must give him when he does. Geralt did have to admit that they got better rooms at inns when Jaskier inquired about them. 

It was a good routine, especially since it gave Geralt a break from Jaskier’s constant talking. While Geralt had found himself getting used to it the longer they traveled together he still longed for some quiet every now and then. At least Jaskier never expected him to be talkative as well and never badgered him about questions he wasn’t quick to answer. 

When they were packing up their things to head out, Geralt noticed Jaskier fastening something new to his belt. 

“What is that?” Geralt asked his travel companion. 

“What is what?” Jaskier questioned back, with a confused furrow of his brow. 

Geralt pointed in the vicinity of Jaskier’s belt.

“It’s a holster?” Jaskier replied, in a questioning tone. 

“For a teacup?” Geralt asked, deadpan.

“Well one needs to maintain some class out here.” Jaskier said with a smile.

Jaskier then proceeded to tell Geralt the whole story of how he had commissioned the holster for a teacup during their stay in town since it was more than just three shops and homesteads in the surrounding miles. 

“Well, there was this very kind leather smith who indulged my idea, and accepted the hefty amount of coin I offered. I’ll admit he did initially laugh at the idea, but just look at this craftsmanship.” 

Geralt had to admit that it was finely crafted, it was as sturdy as any gun holster. And while it seemed useless to Geralt he couldn’t balk at Jaskier’s indulgence as he did pay for it with his own coin. 

Jaskier seemed to be able to charm even the surliest of barmen into letting him play in their saloons. So Jaskier made his coin—eventually their coin as they started pooling their money together somewhere along the way—by playing the out-of-tune pianos that could be found in almost every tavern or saloon along their path.

\--------------------

Jaskier had sticky fingers, he was an adept pickpocket as Geralt learned when he first met him—despite him being found out and Geralt dragging him away from the town as they made a quick getaway on Roach. He was far more graceful than his occasional clumsiness would lead one to believe. But of course he was also a magnet for trouble no matter how clever, distracting, or talented he was. 

Geralt continually found himself pulling Jaskier out of trouble that could have been avoided had Jaskier just kept his hands to himself. There was never a dull moment when Jaskier was around and it made Geralt wonder if maybe his life was too dull before Jaskier sauntered into it. 

But Geralt knew that there still had to be more to Jaskier. It just didn’t make sense for someone with hints of an upper class accent to know how to pickpocket, or be friends with whores, let alone be frequenting a saloon to work for his dinner as he was when they met. 

Geralt was curious about Jaskier’s story, there were too many contradictions that puzzled him, but for all the talking Jaskier did he was fairly tight-lipped about his past. Though it wasn’t like Geralt had room to judge. He preferred talking only when he had to and was slow to trust strangers. As a witcher, it just made sense to hold his secrets close to his chest.

\--------------------

They had been making good time and decided to stop for a bit. Geralt took off Roach’s tack to allow the mare some much deserved rest after they had been riding for so long. Geralt knew that Jaskier also needed to rest. He was impressed with the man’s lack of complaining as he had come to expect non-stop chatter. Which, actually Jaskier did talk non-stop, but his complaints were only a fraction of what he voiced. 

It was nice to relax. Geralt rarely allowed himself to do so. Never really having much reason to, aside from the obvious of making sure Roach didn’t tire. But now the addition of Jaskier made him plan out more stops to rest to make sure his companion could get the rest that a human needed. But Geralt had found himself actually enjoying their rest stops from time to time. It was peaceful. 

So of course something had to go awry. Which happened in the form of Roach running off. 

She got spooked by a snake. For a horse, she was hard to spook, but the surprise of a rattlesnake was more than enough to make her bolt. Geralt had whistled for her expecting her to come back, but she hadn’t which worried him quite a bit. If only he hadn’t been so stuck in his musings he might have realized the rattlesnake was nearby before Roach caught a glimpse of it. 

“Don’t worry, Geralt. I’m sure she’s fine. For a horse she is very good at taking care of herself.” 

Geralt huffed, he was sure that his worry was clear as day with the way Jaskier was trying to reassure him. He picked up his gear, relieved that Roach hadn’t ran off when she was still carrying it all. 

Geralt figured he would have the best luck finding her on foot if he went after her alone, knowing Jaskier wouldn’t be able to keep up with him on foot, even if he wasn’t exhausted. 

“Jaskier, I need to go after her. Stay here and make camp.” Geralt said as he refastened his gun belts and double checked his knife was sheathed. 

His hand lingered on one of his pistols for a moment—the one with silver bullets, good against monsters as well as humans in a pinch, for humans a bullet was a bullet regardless of what metal it was made of. Then before he could change his mind he took it out of its holster, checked it was loaded and the safety on before he held it out to Jaskier.

“Here take this just in case.” Geralt said as Jaskier took the pistol by the handle. He hoped Jaskier wouldn’t need it. 

Geralt watched Jaskier tuck the pistol in his belt and felt a little better about leaving the man on his own. Geralt reminded himself that Jaskier was proficient with the dagger Geralt gave him and that he at least had good aim with a gun even if he had only really shot one when Geralt gave him a crash course in how to handle one. 

Once Geralt had silently reassured himself that Jaskier would be fine. He set off quickly in the direction Roach had bolted. He was able to pick up her scent with his heightened senses. He just hoped she hadn’t gone too far. But if anything the solo walk would allow him to wrap his head around his thoughts and the fact that he cared about Jaskier, no, _Jaskier’s safety_ , more and more as the days went by.

\--------------------

It seemed that there was a bounty on Jaskier’s head and Geralt had two thoughts warring in his mind: The inconvenience of traveling with a wanted man versus his need to protect said man. Jaskier didn’t show any signs of being worried. Was it possible he didn’t know about the bounty and the wanted posters? 

Geralt didn’t really care either way, all he knew was that he needed to protect Jaskier and if it came down to it, hunt down whoever put a price on Jaskier’s head to begin with.

After a few more days of traveling and another wanted poster that Geralt ripped off a noticeboard, he figured he needed to finally confront Jaskier about the wanted posters. From what he knew of the man he didn't think he would hurt a fly. And the wanted posters Geralt had come across hadn’t been forthcoming with details other than “wanted: dead or alive,” and the size of the reward. Geralt scoffed at the reward on the first poster he came across, but that was more likely because to him Jaskier was worth more than any amount of money offered. 

Geralt decided to confront Jaskier about the wanted posters once they were safe outside of town, their camp set up for the night. He wasn’t sure what Jaskier’s reaction would be, but nothing he could have done would change Geralt’s opinion of him. Geralt had even briefly wondered if Jaskier’s face on wanted posters had something to do with him. He wouldn’t put it past humans to think of something as stupid as traveling with a witcher as a punishable offense if they had enough hate of witchers to begin with. 

Geralt retrieved the rolled up wanted posters that he had shoved into one of his saddle bags and walked back towards where Jaskier was sitting on his bed roll by the fire, fingers tapping on his knees as he hummed some song or other. Geralt was growing used to the constant background noise. 

Geralt lowered himself to the ground to sit next to Jaskier. 

“Jaskier, I found these on the notice board in the last town we passed through.” He unrolled the papers and handed them to Jaskier. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

Jaskier took the papers and laughed when he got a good look at them. Geralt swore he actually snorted. But laughter was not the reaction Geralt had been expecting. 

Before he could ask what was going on Jaskier spoke, “They never get my features right. My nose is not that big and whose chin even is that. This is some shoddy sketching if you ask me.” 

“You’re not concerned?” 

“Are you kidding? A couple of these pop up every few towns. I have no idea what I am being accused of this time, but you know me, I’m good at pissing people off.” 

It was said nonchalantly, but Geralt sensed that there was more to it that Jaskier wasn’t saying. He wouldn’t force him to say more, it wasn’t his place to dig into Jaskier’s past. And even if he demanded Jaskier tell him, it was a sure fire way for Jaskier _not_ to tell him. The man did love to be contrary. 

Geralt didn’t believe that Jaskier being wanted was just an unfortunate joke. He could tell that Jaskier wasn’t telling him something. His dismissal of it and playing it off as a joke all pointed to it being something more. Geralt vowed to himself that he would protect Jaskier, no matter what his past was. 

“Hmm. Well we don’t need those then,” Geralt gestured to the posters still in Jaskier’s hand. He then held out his own hand for them, “May I?” Jaskier passed them back to Geralt and hugged his arms around his knees. Geralt hardly glanced at the posters before throwing them onto the fire. 

As they watched the papers being swallowed up by the flames, Geralt saw Jaskier’s lips twitch into a small smile and figured he had made the right choice.

\--------------------

After a contract, a noonwraith haunting a homestead just a little too close to the town for comfort, he had enough coin to last them for a good while as well as some to spare until the next job. Which is why he found himself walking into the general store in the no-name town and purchasing the banjo that the shopkeep had on display behind the counter away from the grubby hands of patrons. 

Jaskier had been eyeing the banjo when they had stopped in the shop their first day in town to acquire information about the contract. Geralt knew that Jaskier was yearning for an instrument to play. He sang more often than not and was constantly tapping his fingers or feet to a beat that only he could hear. Even if Geralt hadn’t heard Jaskier play the piano when he first met him, he knew that the younger man was a musician. 

Geralt justified the expense when he saw Jaskier’s face light up with the most brilliant smile when he presented the banjo to him. He kept replying it in his mind as laid down on his back on his bedroll, staring at the starlit night sky. For the first time in many years, Geralt fell asleep with a smile on his face.

\--------------------

Well Jaskier got stabbed. It was in the thigh, and was minimal in terms of risk. No vital organs to worry about there and it missed the artery. But that only gave Geralt a minimal amount of relief. He didn’t want to see Jaskier hurt in any way. 

Jaskier knew how to defend himself. He was already adept when Geralt met him and had become more skilled with Geralt’s training. He also fought dirty, which Geralt often found amusing. But fighting dirty often meant Jaskier got cocky. Geralt was just glad he had walked out of the general store when he did and was easily able to disband the three men than Jaskier was up against. 

But of course not before one of them took a last chance swing at Jaskier while Jaskier was distracted having realized Geralt was approaching. Geralt wasn’t fast enough to stop the hit, but he was fast enough to get the men away from Jaskier and on him before they realized they hit the mark and had injured Jaskier. 

Geralt knocked out all three men and left them where they lay in the alley to tend to Jaskier. His friend was slumped against the wall, but he had at least taken off his bandana from around his neck and had it pressed to his thigh with as much pressure as he could manage. 

“Jaskier, are you alright?” Geralt asked as he skidded to his knees next to Jaskier. 

“Peachy. It’s just a scratch,” Jaskier said through clenched teeth. Geralt didn’t blame him, stab wounds hurt regardless of how severe and Jaskier didn’t have witcher healing like Geralt did. 

Geralt gently lifted Jaskier’s hand, shushing him as Jaskier hissed in pain. “You’re alright. Let me see,” Geralt said, as if trying to reassure a skittish animal. He moved the bandana to look at the wound. It didn’t look too deep, but it was a longer wound than he expected, as if the assailant dragged the knife down Jaskier’s thigh a bit before it was pulled out. 

Geralt wrapped the slightly bloody bandana around Jaskier’s thigh so it would keep pressure on the wound while they got out of there. Luckily they hadn’t gone to the inn yet so their gear was still with Roach. Unluckily, that meant having to leave the town and tend to Jaskier’s wound when they made camp. Geralt didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary after knocking out three men, it didn’t matter if they were locals or not. The word of three men was bound to be believed over that of a witcher, and Geralt didn’t want to put Jaskier at even further risk, especially in his injured state. 

“Can you walk?” Geralt asked tersely. He just wanted to get them out of there. There were reasons why he preferred camping out and avoiding towns as often as they could other than looking for contracts, and running into thugs was one of them. 

“Yeah, I think so. With some help from my big, strong witcher of course.” Jaskier said, his breathing a bit labored. But he said it with a smile—albeit a slightly forced smile—which relieved Geralt the tiniest bit. He put his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and helped lever him off of the ground.

They made it to Roach who was leisurely munching on some feed where Geralt had left her. 

Jaskier pulled away from Geralt to lean on Roach. “Hey girl,” he said as sweetly as he could through gritted teeth as he absently patted her flank. Geralt untied her reins from the hitching post so they could get going.

“Come on, Jask.” Geralt said. Jaskier sighed but moved closer to Geralt so that he could help Jaskier mount Roach. Geralt gave him a boost and Jaskier grunted from the pain as there was no way not to jostle his leg regardless of how careful Geralt was. 

Once Jaskier was seated, Geralt mounted Roach behind him. He grabbed the reins with one hand and started to wrap his other arm around Jaskier’s waist to hold him in place, he hesitated for a moment before placing his hand over Jaskier’s abdomen to keep him steady. They had ridden Roach together before, but the stakes felt higher now. It wasn’t simply fleeing. Jaskier was injured and Geralt needed to fix it. 

It was only once they had reached a clearing far enough from the town that Geralt truly realized the pattern that had developed. It really had become a habit, the two of them fleeing towns upon Roach.

\--------------------

The hunt was going fine, until it wasn’t. Geralt thought it was going to be a quick hunt as he was expecting a couple drowners at most, not a whole pack of them. He wasn’t prepared to fight a whole pack of drowners, there were at least five of them, one of the blasted things got him in the arm. And the leg. 

He had used up the silver bullets in the barrel of his pistol and most of the fight was up close and personal as he made use of his silver coated hunting knife.

It was going okay, until he was crowded by a couple of the drowners in the shallows of the water. He managed to hack into one of the drowners and kill it as he was pushed backwards, but next thing he knew he fell onto his back with a splash. His sweat and water-soaked hair was plastered to his face as pain flared through his skull. He reached for his knife only to find it out of reach as his eyes fought to stay open. 

Before losing consciousness he made out the hazy shape of a person behind the drowner and then only darkness.

\--------------------

Geralt groaned as he regained consciousness. He blinked as he tried to open his bleary eyes. His body was stiff, but he was out of his armor, his clothing dry and soft against his skin. As he woke up bit by bit, he realized he was laying on his bedroll, with a horse blanket covering him. 

He slowly sat up, his body protesting as he did so. He let out a grunt as he realized he was still in pain. It was a deep ache, but he could tell that his body was already healing.

He took stock of his body aside from just accepting that it was healing. His arm was neatly bandaged, his leg too. There was some blood that seeped through the bandage on his leg so he peeled it away to see neat if not perfect stitches holding the wound together. 

His head also hurt, but when he lifted his hand to the back of his head he wasn’t met with any blood or bandages, just a tender spot that would heal soon enough. As he slowly brought his hand down again, he realized his hair was in a loose braid. 

After cataloging his injuries and how they were cared for, his thoughts turned to Jaskier. Jaskier who must have found him and brought him back to their camp somehow. Jaskier who must have tended to his wounds while he was unconscious. Jaskier, who was...nowhere to be found. 

Geralt shoved the blanket off of himself and was on his feet in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t his best idea, his leg did not appreciate the pressure he was putting on it. 

“Jaskier!” He yelled as loud as he could, voice still raspy with sleep. He was about to call out again, or better yet find his boots and go looking, when Jaskier appeared from behind some trees, kettle in hand. 

“Geralt! Thank Melitele you’re awake!” Jaskier responded upon seeing Geralt. He rushed over, tripping over something as he did so, but miraculously managed not to drop the kettle or spill any of the water in it. 

Geralt watched him place it over the fire to warm on his way to Geralt. 

“Why are you standing up? Lay down, rest. What do you need? I heard you yell.” 

“Nothing,” Geralt said, his shoulders slumping in relief. Jaskier was here and unharmed. But things didn't add up, Geralt was sure that that last drowner was going to kill him last night.

Geralt sat back down on his bedroll and watched as Jaskier pulled some sachets of herbs out of his pack, placing one into his teacup and the other into Geralt’s tin mug before pouring the hot water from the kettle over them. 

He then walked over to Geralt handing him the mug as he sat down next to him his own cup in hand. 

Geralt hummed in thanks. He enjoyed the warmth of the mug in his hands. 

“How did you find me?” 

“Oh that was easy. I got on Roach and let her lead the way. And it’s a good thing too, I never would have gotten you back here without her.” 

“I thought I told you to stay here.” 

“Well yes,” Jaskier said before he paused to take a sip of his tea, “but you also said that it was two drowners at most that you would be back within half an hour being that we aren’t that far from the river. But you were gone far longer. So I figured you must have met some complications. Anyway,” Jaskier sighed dramatically, “It’s a good thing I came after you. No sooner did I dismount Roach to see you on your back in the water surrounded by drowner corpses with one that was very much alive bearing down on you.” 

“So there is still a drowner out there and yet you got water from the river.” 

“Of course not. That drowner is very much dead thank you very much.” 

Geralt paused with his mug a couple inches from his mouth, he looked to Jaskier in disbelief, “ You killed it?” 

“Of course I did. I wasn’t about to let it kill you. Good thing you trained me how to use a dagger. And well maybe it also helped that it was distracted by it’s hopes of killing you and I stabbed it in the back, but details.” 

“Thank you.”

  


* * *

* * *

  


They had been traveling with each other for years now. They had an easy camaraderie and a deep-seated friendship built on trust. Geralt didn’t say it often, but Jaskier was his best friend, his partner in many ways. If only Geralt could work up the courage to admit to Jaskier that he loved him. It had been plaguing Geralt for years, he spent more time than he would like to admit daydreaming during their travels. Daydreaming of caressing Jaskier’s cheek with his hand, of embracing him while they laid near a river, of just Jaskier. He was always inevitably dragged out of his musings by the real Jaskier badgering him with questions or inquiring if he was alright. To which he would usually respond with a hum or a grunt knowing he wouldn’t be able to express his feelings with words since they overwhelmed him too much. 

\--------------------

Even after all the years they had been traveling together, even after it had been years since the initial wanted posters with Jaskier’s face on them, newer posters with Jaskier’s face on them would crop up from time to time. Geralt always thought humans were quick to forget, at least compared to beings with longer lifespans, it often made him wonder if the person responsible for the posters wasn’t human. But that also begged the question of why did it only seem to be wanted posters with hardly any actual altercations with people trying to come after Jaskier. Whoever was after him was sure willing to hold a grudge. 

The strange thing seemed to be that the posters, with Jaskier’s birth name, started showing a more aged version of Jaskier. As if the makers of them figured they were now looking for a slightly older man. But Jaskier barely looked any older than when Geralt met him. 

They were in one of the slightly larger towns they often passed through while on the path. Geralt ripped the most recent wanted poster for Julian Alfred Pankratz off of the noticeboard. 

“Why do they keep drawing you so much older? Not that many years have passed.” Geralt said. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Well of course 20 years wouldn’t seem long to you. You’re already been alive for a century.” 

“But still, this hardly looks anything like you.” 

“Geralt, my dear Witcher, have you really not noticed how I haven’t aged over these years?” 

“Those lines around your eyes would beg to differ.” Geralt said with a deadpan delivery. 

Jaskier let out an indignant squawk. “Excuse you, I have sensitive skin and all this sun and dry air doesn’t do it any favors.” 

“So you really haven’t been aging?” 

“How did you and those keen witcher senses _not_ notice?” 

“The way you view time changes once you’ve been alive for over a century. Time moves slower and quicker at the same time. Twenty years is a blink of an in the scheme of things to me.” 

“Went by pretty fast for me too.” Jaskier said a bit forlornly as if he regretted how quickly the time went by. Geralt didn’t want to read into it too much, but he hoped that meant Jaskier liked spending his years traveling with Geralt. 

“Have you been hiding that you are over a century old from me?” 

“Nothing like that. I really was only twenty when we met and I am forty now. But I will age more slowly or live much longer than the average human, depending how you want to look at it. It runs in the family. Though no one seems to know why. Or if they do they never shared it with me. Could be fae or elven blood somewhere in the bloodline, could be something completely different. I never really understood as a kid what it meant. Living longer I mean. But I guess I’ll figure that out once I’m like eighty.” 

Geralt wished he understood why Jaskier still registered as completely human to him despite his non-human blood, but he was more fixated on the fact that Jaskier would live for a long time. So long as he didn’t get himself into trouble the Geralt couldn’t pull him out of. 

“One day you’ll no longer be able to call me an old man.” 

“Oh, but Geralt you will always be an old man. It has less to do with age and more to do with, well everything else.” 

“I’ll show you an old man.” Geralt taunted fondly as he stalked towards Jaskier who was scrambling to his feet to walk away. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier warned. 

Geralt just walked closer. He turned to look at the river near their campsite and then back at Jaskier who had picked up on his intentions. 

“Geralt! Oh no, no. No, don’t even think about it. Don’t you dare.” Jaskier yelled, but he was laughing so Geralt kept up his game. 

Jaskier attempted to fake Geralt out and run past him, but he had to have known that Geralt would expect him to do that. 

Geralt ducked down and grabbed a laughing Jaskier around the waist and behind the knees to haul him over his shoulder. He ran the short distance to the edge of the river and unceremoniously tossed Jaskier into it. 

Jaskier came up sputtering water. “Geralt! I still had my boots on.” 

“They’ll dry, and if not--”

Jaskier cut him off, pointing a finger at him, “Do not say you can try to use igni to dry them, I would rather wet boots than no boots at all because they have been burnt to a crisp.” 

Jaskier swam back to Geralt who was waiting on the bank of the river. When Jaskier got close, Geralt squatted down and put out a hand to help him out of the water. He was still laughing and was sure Jaskier would describe the smile on his face as smug when he inevitably regaled people with this tale. 

“Glad to see some of your manners have remained intact.” Jaskier said as he grabbed ahold of Geralt’s hand. However, Geralt was not expecting Jaskier to tug with all his strength once they grasped hands, leading to him tumbling into the water with Jaskier. 

Geralt grunted as he broke the surface. 

“Got you,” Jaskier laughed, “Now we’re even. We’ll both be wearing damp boots tomorrow.”

\--------------------

Later on when they were both laying on their bedrolls in their spare clothes while the clothes they had been wearing dried after their dip in the river, Geralt couldn’t help but think that he was never so glad that people constantly underestimated Jaskier.

He realized that regardless if the person or persons behind the posters was human or not, they seemed to think that Jaskier most definitely was. After Jaskier’s reveal that he was decidedly not quite human, Geralt thought to himself how it made things so much easier. And life being made _easier_ by the revelation of a secret was not something Geralt was used to. 

It could be so easy, they just had to ignore the posters and let people think that Julian Alfred Pankratz had died. Those still looking for him were looking for someone who would have aged much more than Jaskier had at this point. They were also looking for a former aristocrat, not a musician traveling with a witcher. 

Geralt swore it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. And while he couldn’t believe that it took him so many years of knowing Jaskier to find out he wasn’t fully human, he couldn’t care less. It meant an easy solution to avoiding potential bounty hunters looking for Jaskier. It also meant that Geralt had even more years of traveling with Jaskier to look forward to. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt questioned in the darkness that surrounded them. 

“Mmhmm,” Jaskier acknowledged sleepily from his bedroll, only a few feet away. 

Geralt had been hoping Jaskier was asleep already. “Um, nothing. See you in the morning.” 

“Goodnight, my Witcher.” Jaskier mumbled as he dropped off to sleep.

\--------------------

Kaer Morhen, the ranch that was homebase to the wolf witchers was nestled at the bottom of the Blue Mountains. It was a sprawling ranch house with acres upon acres of land around it. It was the only place that Geralt had ever called home. 

This was the first winter that Geralt was bringing Jaskier to the homestead with him. For years Geralt had been making up excuses why Jaskier couldn’t join him for the winter. Worried that his feelings for his friend were too much. Worried that Jaskier wouldn’t like his family. Worried that his family wouldn’t like Jaskier—which was highly improbable since Geralt had found it was hard to find people who _didn’t_ like him. He was worried that he and Jaskier needed that time apart for their dynamic to work, he hoped he wasn’t pushing his luck by bringing Jaskier back to the ranch. 

He was also worried about explaining away the bounty that was still technically on Jaskier’s head even after all the years that had passed.

\--------------------

They were making their way to Kaer Morhen ranch. While they didn’t have snow to worry about yet, still not close enough to the mountains, the nights still got cold and Geralt wanted to make it there before midwinter. 

They were traveling at a steady pace, able to cover more ground now that Jaskier had a horse of his own. Pegasus was the most recent addition to their traveling party. Geralt had finally found a gelding for Jaskier. He was a fairly skilled rider and Geralt knew that he didn’t need a horse guaranteed to be calm, but it needed to be a horse that got along with Roach. 

Jaskier having his own horse made traveling quicker and allowed them to make better time between towns. It also meant that Jaskier wheedled him into races more often than not when they had a good stretch of open land ahead of them. 

Geralt and Roach won more often than not. But there were those few times that Jaskier and Pegasus out-paced them. Geralt found that he could graciously accept defeat when it was to Jaskier and all in good fun. He would just never admit it to his brothers, or Jaskier for that matter. Jaskier would not stand for it if he had even an inkling of Geralt going easy on him. Which he wasn’t, Pegasus was a speedy thing when he wanted to be. 

And Jaskier had a bond with Pegasus just like Geralt did with Roach. Geralt was glad that Jaskeir had someone else to talk to, he had at least stopped making fun of Geralt for having full conversations with Roach. 

Pegasus also brought out Jaskier’s caretaking side. Geralt had been on the receiving end of Jaskier’s mother henning quite a bit, but it was a different sort when Jaskier took care of his horse. Geralt chalked it up to the fact that Pegasus was Jaskier’s and Jaskier didn’t have all that many things to claim as his. And everyone did better with a companion regardless of how many times Geralt had forced himself to think he didn’t need anyone when he was younger, a witcher new to the path. 

He had learned a lot in his many years even if he wouldn’t admit it outside of his own head.

\--------------------

Geralt’s anxiety about Jaskier’s past came to a head when they came across yet another wanted poster for him, or well for Julian Alfred Pankratz. Geralt respected the right to privacy, but he had known Jaskier for two decades now. And even going by witcher years, that was a long time not to share one’s past. Geralt had found himself sharing more of his past with Jaskier than he had expected over the years, and while Jaskier shared things in turn, he was still tight lipped about the whole ordeal of being a wanted man. 

Geralt needed to know the whole story before bringing Jaskier to Kaer Morhen. He had realized that was what had been bothering him most: the fact that he was going to bring Jaskier to his home but he still didn’t know some of the most important parts of Jaskier’s past that led to him and Geralt crossing paths in the first place. 

Geralt put up with the throuble the Jaskier often got them into, Melitele knows why, but he did. He hadn’t wanted to look out for some talkative kid, cause that’s what he was like when they met. Even if he was already a man by most standards almost anyone was a kid to Geralt when he thought about how old he really was. 

For the last hour or so of their journey, Geralt had been silently debating with himself if he should confront Jaskier. It worked well enough all those years ago when he first asked Jaskier about it. But it also hadn’t given him any real answers. It just instilled Jaskier’s trust in him. Gods, was that something that took getting used to, having someone who trusted him wholeheartedly. At first it was bothersome. Geralt had been trained that he didn’t need people but then Jaskier just never left and he got used to it. He grew accustomed to Jaskier’s loyalty and didn’t want to lose it.

\--------------------

"Damnit Jaskier,” Geralt grumbled, “that's the fourth town we've been run out of in a row."

"Well we get run out of towns all the time, I don’t see what the big deal is." Jaskier shrugged. 

"You don’t usually get shot in the chest when we get chased out."

"It was in the arm, not the chest. And it was just a graze. I can still ride my horse and carry my bloody banjo. It’s fine.” 

"That's not the point." Geralt snarled. 

Jaskier just huffed and urged Pegasus into a canter to pull ahead of Geralt and Roach. Geralt sighed as well and got Roach moving to catch up. 

Geralt was ever more aware that Jaskier having his own horse also meant that Jaskier could take off when he and Geralt had an argument. Well an argument that was bigger than whose turn it was to make dinner or if spending the night in a town was feasible, or what Roach and Pegasus would say if they could talk. 

And what they had was a big argument so Geralt didn’t begrudge Jaskier in running. But Geralt could keep pace when he needed to and it didn’t feel like the time to let Jaskier run too far before addressing their argument and the concerns Geralt still had about the wanted posters. 

As Roach caught up to Pegasus, Jaskier urged him into a gallop and Geralt didn’t know what to do aside from follow since it seemed Jaskier wasn’t in a talking mood. 

Geralt was able to mostly keep pace with Jaskier until he came to a stop. It was early but they mutually decided to make camp, despite still not talking.

\--------------------

Geralt’s anger and frustration had been simmering along with the stew that was cooking in the pot over the fire. He was pacing near Roach. He had been sitting across from Jaskier, taking his pistols apart to clean them to have something to do with his hands. Jaskier was leaning against a rock strumming on his banjo, his own form of pacing Geralt supposed. He was strumming, but not singing. He had been quiet since they fled town. Since they had the beginnings of an argument that led to Jaskier giving him the silent treatment. 

Geralt was still debating broaching the topic again. Geralt knew that ultimately he was going to, but that didn’t mean he wanted to agitate Jaskier further even if he did want to finally get some answers. 

Geralt walked back towards the campfire, he checked on the stew before sitting on the ground across from Jaskier. 

“Jask.” 

Jaskier didn't answer, just strummed a sinister sounding chord, or as sinister as one could get with a banjo. 

It almost made Geralt laugh, but he figured that wouldn’t be appreciated. 

He tried again, “Jaskier?” 

Jaskier didn’t answer, but Geralt saw the minute furrow of his brow that indicated he was paying attention, but still annoyed. 

Geralt was about to try again when Jaskier sighed, “ What do you want?” 

There was an edge to his voice despite the sigh, but Geralt chose to ignore it. Jaskier at least spoke to him for the first time in half a day. 

“Why are you wanted?”

“I thought we’d gone over this before. Years ago. You didn’t give fuck then, why do you give one now?” He paused. “It’s been so long, Geralt. Why do we need to talk about it?”

“Because it has been so long is exactly why we need to.” 

“You’re just looking for an excuse to argue. A reason to, I don’t know, get me to leave you. But even mad at you I would never leave you.”

“You do leave.” 

“I come back. There is a difference between leaving and clearing your head so you don’t do something you regret.” 

“Stop changing the subject.” Geralt growled. 

Jaskier laughed a mirthless laugh, Geralt could only assume he could tell Geralt was losing his grip on his temper. 

“Why after so many years do you still not want to tell me?” 

“Why are you only badgering me about it now? What about when you first found those posters? When you told me it didn’t matter and burnt them to ash. This reaction seems decades late if you ask me.”

“Well I am asking you. So you should answer.” 

“Oh I should answer should I? Or what? What if I don’t, hmm?” 

Geralt felt his nostrils flare as he tried to rein in his mounting temper. He couldn’t believe that he had gotten so close to someone without knowing something so important about them. Although he was sure it could be argued it wasn’t that important. It wasn’t a defining factor, but that was besides the point. 

“Did you ever think that I don’t want to think of my past just as much as you don’t want to think about yours? Just because I’m not a witcher doesn’t mean I haven’t fought my share of monsters? I wanted to get away. I never felt like I fit with my family. I was, am, too loud, too shameless, too... kind.”

“I never said—” Geralt started in a rough voice, but Jaskier cut him off and started his story. 

“I had a friend, she was more like a sister to me really. From a young age, our parents joked that we would one day marry. For the longest time we both thought it absurd—I hardly had an interest in women and she wanted to go out and change the world for the better, votes for women and all that. But then as we got a little bit older we thought maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. We figured if we ended up married our parents would be placated and we would be able to have whatever sort of unconventional marriage pleased us. We also realized as we got older that our parents were such good friends because they all held the same abhorrent values.” 

Geralt grunted to assure Jaskier he was listening. 

Jaskier continued: “When we were eighteen, we found out her parents had arranged a marriage for her. It was to secure a business venture, they hardly cared about her happiness. She was eighteen and to be married to a nasty lout of man more than twice her age. A man known for being violent to his previous wives. What kind of parents would do that to their daughter?” 

Geralt lifted his head up from where was looking down at his hands while Jaskier spoke. He saw the anguish in Jaskier’s eyes and wondered how humans—regardless if they had eleven or fae blood in their bloodline as Jaskier’s family did—could be so monstrous. It was no longer a surprise after living for over a century, but he still couldn’t comprehend the actions and skewed morals of some people. 

Jaskier had stopped speaking for the moment. Geralt knew the last question had been rhetorical as Jaskier knew he could probably provide plenty of examples of monstrous humans he had encountered. 

Jaskier began to speak again. “I suggested that she run away so she wouldn’t have to be trapped in a marriage to that dreadful man. But that of course meant running far enough that her parents couldn’t find her. She was more than willing, but of course still terribly frightened. So we made a plan, she and I. She knew that I wanted to be rid of my family as well, so we promised to run away together. To go west, and follow that magical idea of Manifest Destiny.” 

“What happened?” Geralt dared to ask. 

“Let’s just say that the man she was going to marry had a lot of friends in high places and more money than a god. He put a price on my head for “stealing” his bride. We expected some sort of reaction but didn’t find out about the bounty until we were on a train heading west. There were some close calls along the journey. We got creative and started traveling in less expected ways—it was a lot of walking. Stayed in a lot of brothels.” Jaskier shrugged, “Most madams are quite accommodating to women running from abusive men. They were also open to having a man around who wasn’t only interested in bedding women. My ability to play multiple instruments and provide entertainment was also appreciated. So now you know my story, at least the bits you weren’t there for.”

Jaskier gazed down at his banjo, perhaps thinking back to more joyful occasions of providing musical entertainment for the friends he made across various brothels. 

“What happened to her?” Geralt asked. He felt like he needed to know the fate of Jaskier’s friend and Jaskier hadn’t revealed it. 

“Oh, um, she’s living with the madam of one of the brothels we stayed at. They developed a partnership, in the romantic sense. She is quite happy. As far as I know at least, we lost touch a bit over the years, but I still send her letters when I can.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, “So that’s who you were mailing letters to.” 

“Yes, she is. She writes back occasionally, but as we are constantly on the move, it’s much harder for me to receive letters.” 

“Why don’t you visit her? We could have.” 

“But there is still a bounty on my head and seems like there always will be. Even if the name on the posters is Julian Pankratz and not Jaskier, it’s still me. Even if you and I are the only ones who know that. I can’t risk that, not when she is happy and has a life.” Jaskier gritted his teeth and then more faintly said “Not when I am happy and have my own.” 

If Geralt didn’t already know of Jaskier’s kindness he would now. Jaskier was willing to help the only real friend he had when he was young at the price of having a bounty put on his head while hardly batting an eye. He was willing to communicate through a few measly letters if it meant that she was safe and happy. Geralt again wondered how he was worthy of Jaskier’s loyalty and friendship. 

Jaskier cleared his throat, “So I am sorry that I have caused so much trouble just by trying to do right by her.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for. Your actions were nothing but noble.” 

“Really?” Jaskier teased, “After all that. After all your anger and your need to know you just accept it? And call me noble of all things.” 

“Yes.” 

Jaskier sighed and Geralt was sure there were tears in his eyes even if they didn’t fall. He was emotionally drained and Geralt was to blame. 

Geralt reached over and lightly put his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, only tightening his hold when Jaskier leaned into him. “Come on, we need to eat. And then sleep to get an early start tomorrow. It’s a long ride to Kaer Morhen still.” 

In response Jaskier rolled his eyes before a small smile graced his face. They would be okay.

\--------------------

It was a calm night with a cloudless sky full of shining stars. There was a chill in the air, but nothing being next to a fire couldn’t help. Geralt was whittling, he had just taken out a new block of wood and planned on making a horse as a gift for Vesimer to add to the mantle. He had already whittled a goat for Eskel. He still hadn’t made a gift for Jaskier since they were almost always together and Jaskier was often too curious—read nosy—for his own good. 

Geralt found himself humming along to Jaskier’s singing, though he was unsure for how long he had actually been humming. He had only noticed when the tune changed to something he wasn’t familiar with. 

“What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” Jaskier asked him with a raised eyebrow as his fingers stilled on his banjo. 

“That song. It’s not one I’ve heard before.” 

“Oh so the mighty witcher does pay attention does he?” Jaskier asked rhetorically. Geralt knew when he was being teased. 

Jaskier went back to picking at the strings and Geralt resumed his whittling, until he realized that Jaskier never actually answered his question. He was always good at distracting Geralt. This time Geralt moved off of the log he was seated on to lean his back against it and sit closer to Jaskier. Once he was situated, he continued whittling, almost mindlessly. 

Jaskier looked up at him inquisitively, but Geralt could sense the uncharacteristic hesitance in his body language. Jaskier was nervous and Geralt didn’t know why.

“You never answered my question.” 

“And what question was that, my dear Witcher?” Jaskier asked as he idly strummed some chords on his banjo. Geralt was again momentarily distracted. Jaskier could never keep still. Granted, Geralt wasn’t in the place to judge, often needing something to keep his hands occupied as well. 

“What is that song you’re playing? I haven’t heard it before.” 

“Well um, it’s new. Well sort of. I’ve been writing it for sometime now.” 

“I never knew you to be bashful about sharing your compositions.” Geralt said. 

“This one happens to be a gift. For someone quite important to me.” 

“Oh. Hmm. Anyone is lucky to have a song written for them.” 

“Yes, but they already have songs written for them.” Jaskier winked at him, but Geralt was unsure why. He was missing something, but he didn’t know what. 

Geralt was still trying to figure out what was going on and who was so important to deserve one of Jaskier’s songs when Jaskier huffed at him. 

Geralt shook himself out of his reverie and gazed at Jaskier who rolled his eyes. 

“Lost in thought again, hmm? You can be so dense sometimes, Geralt. It’s for you. The song is for you. A midwinter gift if you will.” 

“Play it again.” 

“It’s not quite midwinter yet.” 

Geralt didn’t like how hesitant Jaskier was still being. Why didn’t he want to share the song? As he said he had already written plenty of songs about Geralt and their adventures. What made this one so different? 

“Please.” Geralt said quietly. He felt a strong need to hear the song now. 

Jaskier looked at him with such fondness as he began to strum again. Geralt settled back against the log to get more comfortable. He wanted to watch Jaskier while he sang, but he knew he would distract himself from listening if he did. So he rested his head against the log and closed his eyes. 

It was an upbeat, jaunty rhythm, but the melody itself felt somber and melancholy. It was somehow soothing, and Geralt supposed he had gotten used to Jaskier’s playing after all these years. 

And then Jaskier began to sing: “ _Look at me, I’m as helpless as a kitten up a tree. I’m walking on a cloud…_ ”  
Geralt huffed a laugh, Jaskier was nowhere near helpless. Jaskier kept singing and Geralt got lost in the sound of his voice, picking up a every few lines as he zoned out. 

“ _You can say that you’re leading me on  
But it’s just what I want you to do  
Don’t ya notice how hopelessly I’m lost  
That’s why I’m followin’ you_” 

The lyrics made Geralt ache with fondness for Jaskier and made him realize that perhaps Jaskier felt the same way about him. Maybe despite their bickering and the long days traveling and living in the wilderness, Jaskier cared about him as more than a friend as well. Jaskier had been following Geralt for years, but Geralt knew that it was out of want and not any sort of obligation. Jaskier was not one to be forced into anything and always made his opinions known, and loudly.

Geralt was the one that would be lost without him. While he always said he didn’t want to be needed he had started to need Jaskier. He still didn't understand what Jaskier saw in him that made him stick around, but Geralt didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, if it was anything like Roach it would bite his head off for being an idiot. Geralt no longer wanted to be alone. 

Geralt tuned back into Jaskier’s singing, as he remembered he was supposed to be paying attention instead of getting lost in his thoughts. Jaskier’s voice guiding him out of his own head as always. 

“ _...Should I wander through this wonderland alone, now  
Never knowin’ my right foot from my left  
My hat from my glove, Lord  
I’m misty, and too much in love_”

Jaskier repeated the chorus and sang a few more lines, but Geralt was caught. He was caught up on the words “too much in love.” Did Jaskier love him? Were his daydreams coming true? 

Geralt kept still where he was laying against the log, as he let the words sink in. He replayed parts of the song in his mind as best he could remember. It was a love song. It was Jaskier professing his love for not only Geralt, but for following him on the trail, going on adventures together. 

Geralt rubbed his fingers along the wooden trinket he had created. It did not turn out to be a horse. It was a bird. Still rough and generic, but it was without a doubt a small bird, that fit perfectly cupped in the palm of his hand. He had created a lark while listening to _his_ lark. 

Geralt clenched his fist around the wooden bird as he sat up and stretched his legs out, his leg jostling Jaskier’s as he did. 

Jaskier cleared his throat and set his banjo aside. Geralt noticed he was twisting his fingers together nervously. “So what did you think? Three words or less.”

“I love you.” Geralt said almost without thinking. 

Jaskier inhaled sharply and Geralt just stared. Jaskier didn’t need to say the words, his song had already said them and so much more. 

“Oh you,” Jaskier said, exasperation in his voice, “you really know how to catch a man off guard don’t you?” 

Geralt just kept staring. Then he remembered the bird he inadvertently carved. He squeezed his fist around it and then looked down at it nestled in his hand. 

He stuck his hand out towards Jaskier, the wooden bird sitting in his palm. He cleared his throat, “For you.” 

“Oh, thank my dear Witcher,” Jaskier gushed as he delicately took the bird from Geralt’s hand. 

“It was supposed to be a horse. But then that just happened.” 

“So enraptured by my singing that you carved a songbird?” Jaskier asked with a teasing lilt in his voice. 

“Apparently.” Geralt admitted. 

“You sweet man, how people fear you is beyond me.”

“I’m a witcher,” Geralt answered. It was the obvious reason. But it didn’t matter, Jskier didn’t fear him and he mattered more than any other person. 

“Yes, yes you are. So tell me, my dear Witcher, why are you still so far away?” Jaskier whined. “Get over here and kiss me already you stubborn fool.” 

Geralt wasn’t going to argue. There was hardly anything he wanted more than to kiss Jaskier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I'm [iboughtaplant](https://iboughtaplant.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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